Forgivable
by Distortment
Summary: Team loyalty can only stretch so far, everyone has a sell-out point, some things just matter more. Actions made when facing a potentially deadly situation are forgivable. And he won't regret it.
1. Chapter 1

_Right, so, here's the deal. This is my first ever fic, Alex Rider orientated or otherwise. I've got a good idea where it is heading, but it's a bit rough, I think it's better that way, I like filling in the gaps as a go. Anyway, this is probably quite an unoriginal fic but it's sole purpose is stress relief from my GCSE's. Which brings me to another point, updating is going to be very irregular, because revision, breathing, eating and sleeping all have to come first. Also, it took me three weeks to edit this chapter, after I had wrote it which also took a substantial block of time, so it's a long process even when I have the time. Finally, I suck at punctuation and I am only mediocre at spelling, I have been over it several times but if you do spot something, please let me know so I can rectify it. Oh, and enjoy. _

**Disclaimer: I own no rights over Alex Rider, he wouldn't sign the damn contract...**

**Chapter One**

3:07 am.

The neon numbers punched out of the darkness, the only illumination in an otherwise dark room.

Wolf glared at the spiky green numerals that seemed to float in the darkness, as if it was their fault for his early waking.

It wasn't of course. Wolf could definitely pin the blame for that on the person who was banging, loudly and repeatedly, on his front door. But it still felt good to glare at something.

He sat up, and pushed off his bed covers, cursing. Whoever it was, they were going to feel the brunt of his annoyance.

It wasn't that he was not used to waking up early, in fact with his employment, he was probably a better morning person than most, but still on his down time it was nice to sleep in to a more respectable hour.

Wolf swung his legs over the side of the bed, and sat for a moment, as if hoping for the constant banging to cease. It didn't. Whilst the perpetrator wasn't scoring points with Wolf's better nature, he had to admit that they had persistence.

He flicked the switch on his bedside lamp and winced as what seemed to be an unduly bright quantity of light flooded the room. He heaved himself to his feet, shuffled forward a few steps and stooped to retrieve his shirt that he had cast onto the floor before getting into bed.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he yawned and then looked around for his jeans. He spotted them, abandoned on his chest of drawers.

As he dragged them on, he felt a flare of disbelief that even after the time he had taken to wake up, get out of bed and get dressed, whoever was at his door still hadn't given up.

Wolf decided that he'd better hurry up and answer before the whole apartment block was woken up.

He made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, past the various rooms, flicking on the occasional light as he did. He was a mere metre or so from the front door when the knocking suddenly stopped. He froze.

For a moment he considered turning around and going back to bed, but curiosity compelled him to walk the last few steps to the door. He drew back the chain and reached for the door handle.

The door swung inwards and he manoeuvred around it, opening it to its full extent. Light poured into the hallway, illuminating a figure slumped across from his door.

Wolf blinked. The figure seemed small, crumpled against the off-white plaster wall. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to make out any features, but they were obscured by shadows, out of the range of the light that shelved from his doorway.

His annoyance melted away, replaced by confusion and something like concern. He turned to his left and opened the small cabinet, built into the wall at about eye-level, next to the front door. There were several lines of hooks inside the cabinet, upon which, a multitude of keys hung, but a LED Lenser Pro Series P3 torch dominated one side.

He took hold of the chunky, black, aircraft aluminium torch and thumbed the plastic, moulded button on one side. A 0.33-watt beam leapt from his hand and he turned back to the hallway, directing the beam at the face of the collapsed figure.

The face was pale in the torchlight, as white as the waning moon that Wolf had seen from his bedroom window before drawing the blinds that night. The face was young and male.

Webs of sweat glistened delicately, as if painted by a fine brush across the boy's skin. A shadow of bruises mottled his left cheek and black rimmed his left eye, like Indian's paint. A trickle of blood, in a shade as deep as Wolf had ever seen, ran from a cut above his right eye. His hair was mussed, and matted on one side. The torch beam picked out yet more blood.

Wolf slanted the torch beam downwards, moving forward and it fell upon the boy's torso. He was wearing a Chelsea football shirt. Worryingly, a large dark patch was growing on the front of it.

The torch beam accented something metallic to the side of the figure. Moving the beam a few inches in that direction showed Wolf that it was the buckle of a canvas shoulder bag.

Wolf quickly swept the light back upwards.

That face. It was deeply familiar, even half masked with blood and bruising. Wolf's mind worked overtime, connecting the dots.

The torchlight flickered and then died. He shook the torch viciously and the batteries rattled uselessly inside. He swore and stuck it into the waistband of his jeans.

Moving forward, he swiftly took the boy into his arms. He felt lighter than Wolf would have expected. The SAS man straightened up. One of his hands supported the boy's back. The shirt there felt damp.

Wolf grabbed hold of the shoulder bag and then swung around and hurried into his apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him.

For the first time, the boy's face was brought into sharp relief by the strong artificial light. Wolf felt a jolt of shock as recognition hit him, a big red screaming lorry of it. Gears clunked inside his head, he could practically hear the whirring of clogs as a reel of questions rapid fired through his mind.

But training kicked in, and ignoring the questions that the boy's identity raised he took the boy into his living room and placed him gently onto his couch, dropping the shoulder bag to the side, out of his way.

He immediately set to work, hands working deftly at the buttons of the boy's shirt. Adrenaline caused his hands to shake slightly and a few times the discs of plastic slipped through his fingers, but he soon had the shirt undone and he carefully eased it off the boy, leaving him naked from the waist up and exposing the damage that had been inflicted to his torso.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the blood that continued to pulse from several wounds under the boy's ribcage. For a moment he was staggered by the sheer amount of it but he quickly brought himself under control, and began to asses the injuries.

There was a scar near the centre of the boy's chest, very nearly over the top of where his heart should be. It looked to be a few months old, black and ragged, it was evident that it had been left by a bullet. The skin around the scar was discoloured, red, black and blue; it looked as if the boy had been hit with a mallet. Whereas the scar was old, these bruises were recent.

Feeling his concern heighten, Wolf continued to look the boy over. There were red marks on his shoulders where someone had been holding him with considerable force, and his wrists were bruised and swollen, evidently a result of him struggling against some sort of restraints. The wounds underneath his ribcage, despite the amount of blood that was seeping from them, didn't seem to be too deep.

Wolf gently took hold of the boy and tilted him forward so that he could get a look at any damage on his back. The sight that greeted him, made him swear softly. The boy's shoulder blades displayed an impressive collection of sickly yellow and black bruises and the rest of his back was as blood smeared as the front, with apparently identical injuries.

For a brief moment, Wolf wondered if he should call an ambulance. The boy's state seemed to be deteriorating, he was loosing a lot of blood, his pallor seemed to have somehow whitened a couple of shades and he was obvious in a state of deep unconsciousness.

But somehow, he sensed that calling an ambulance wasn't the right call to make. He didn't know why the boy was here, or how he was here, but there must be a reason. No, he wouldn't call an ambulance. He would sort this out on his own.

Sickened, but knowing that now wasn't the time for squeamishness, Wolf lowered the boy back down onto the couch and then hurried out of the living room, across the hallway and into the bathroom.

He returned a few moments later with a mass of towels and sheets slung over one arm and carrying a bucket half-filled with cold water with the other. He set the bucket down by the couch and dropped the towels and sheets next to it.

Dropping to his knees, he took one of the smaller towels and dipped it in the water. Once it was saturated he wrung it out and then delicately began to dab at the blood that covered the boy's torso. There was a wooden bead necklace strung around the boy's neck. Wolf brushed it out of his way.

The blood coming from the wounds was no longer coming out at such a furious pace. Now that the boy was, thankfully, unconscious, his heart was no longer in overdrive and so the rate at which the blood was being pumped around his body had dropped, meaning that it had more chance to congeal and clot around the wounds.

Several towels later and Wolf had removed enough of the blood to inspect the wounds more thoroughly. There were three of them. Each were about fifteen centimetres long, side by side, perfectly symmetrical, and deliberate.

Wolf recognised them for what they were. Whip marks. He felt sick. It looked like the kid had been worked over with a sjambok or something equally nasty.

He took a deep breath and then began to carefully manoeuvre the boy onto his front so that he could clear up his back. Once he had successfully manhandled the boy into an appropriate position he set to work. As expected, the wounds inflicted to the boy's back were identical to those on his torso.

Once Wolf had finished he rearranged the boy's position once again, so that he was now led on his back. Wolf cleaned as much of the blood from the boy's face as he could and then took a few of the clean sheets and spread them over the boy. For a moment he stared down at the young face. Then he stood up.

He took hold of the bucket, the contents of which had taken on a burned orange tinge and carried it back into the bathroom. He poured the discoloured water into the bathtub, watching as it swilled down the plughole and then rinsed out the bucket with bar soap and warm water. He left it in the tub to dry and made his way back into the living room to collect the bloodied towels and sheets.

Once he had deposited them into the washing machine, he switched on the kettle and then began to rummage in his cupboards for some strong painkillers. He managed to extract a half-filled bottle of Zydol capsules that weren't yet past their use-by date, and shook two into his palm. He filled a glass with water and took it into the living room, placed it down on the coffee table and dropped the two capsules down beside it in readiness for the boy's waking.

He then returned to the kitchen and made himself a cup of black coffee. He took a huge gulp of the scalding liquid; barely feeling its burn. Deep in thought, he remained in the kitchen for a few moments, nursing his hot mug and then he proceeded back into the living room, sank into an armchair and prepared himself for a long wait.

* * *

Dawn had long broken by the time the boy awoke. Wolf was sore from sitting for so long, hunched over, his eyes fixed on the boy's face.

For the first hour or two he had been restless and had traipsed around the flat, made several more cups of coffee and attempted to pursue a dog-eared newspaper from… whenever.

But for the past few hours, as the sky lightened, blazed red and then faded to the dishwater grey of winter days, he had merely sat, his attention fixed on the youth. A few times, the boy had stirred, suggesting that he had at sometime made the transaction from being unconscious to being merely, but deeply asleep, but he was only now awakening.

At first he simply shifted, as his awareness returned slowly to him, prising him out of his dream-scape and alerting him to the fact that he was lying on unfamiliar ground. And then, quicker than Wolf could blink, he had snapped up into a sitting position, eyes wide and alarmed, fully conscious.

"Hey, Cub." Wolf said softly, trying to capture the boy's frantic attention, but not to alarm him. The kid turned his head slowly to look at him; his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes hazed slightly with pain.

Catching sight of Wolf his expression cleared. The pain and surprise vanished, to be replaced with a resigned and passive expression. Wolf suppressed a shiver as he took in the boy's eyes. They were eyes that belonged to a man at the edge of his life, driven to destruction by events outside of his control. Those eyes were hauntingly out of place on such a young boy.

"Take the painkillers Cub, you're going to be sore." Wolf suggested, at a loss of what else to say. Cub held his gaze for a few more moments and then turned his attention to the glass and two capsules on the coffee table. He picked up the pale green capsules, considered them for a moment and then tossed them into his mouth, following them with a mouthful of water.

Then, once again, he zeroed his focus onto Wolf. For someone who had just woken in a strange house, shirtless and battered, he was surprisingly dispassionate. He had yet to say a word, didn't seem to be able to summon the will to inspect his own wounds.

"What the hell happened, Cub?" The question came out rougher than Wolf had intended but then again he felt justified for being a little brusque. It wasn't everyday that someone you barely know turns up at your door, sporting whip marks and looking like he's just done five rounds with Muhammad Ali.

Cub broke his gaze, but not fast enough for Wolf to miss the confused mixture of emotions that flooded his eyes. When he turned back, he was once again composed and expressionless. "Scorpia." he answered, short and sweet.

For a moment, Wolf didn't quite have an answer for that. The single word that had just passed the kid's lips raised a whole load of new questions. Wolf suddenly began to wonder just how deep the shit that this kid was in was. He hadn't heard a lot about Scorpia, but he knew that they were a large, ruthless and extremely successful terrorist organisation, and despite their recent defeats by some MI6 agent, the kid was lucky to come out of any confrontation with them as lightly as he had.

"You know, that's not really much of answer." He responded finally, praying that the kid wasn't going to play his cards too close to his chest.

Wolf knew and hated the MI6 stereotype. If Cub had picked up any MISO habits, Wolf had to accept that this was going to be a challenging interview, and he wasn't sure that he was up to that sort of mental challenge, not when the only reason he was functioning was due to several, strong, undiluted helpings of caffeine.

"Does it really need explaining?" Cub asked his voice tired but firm. Wolf could have groaned, it looked like the kid wanted to do it the difficult way. Maybe he ought to call Fox, he was MI6 now, perhaps they had some sort of code.

Hell, maybe he should try and get hold of MI6. Surely Cub was their responsibility after all. That would be nice. Hand Cub over to the higher ups, happy in the knowledge that he'd receive some damn good medical care, and let them deal with any repercussions.

Wolf would have done his part, and with any luck he'd never have to see the damn kid again. This wasn't his crap to get caught up in. He'd done more than necessary already. He should congratulate himself; he'd passed the out-of-the-blue-emergency test. Now it was time for the professionals to step in.

But even as these thoughts ran through his mind, Wolf knew that he couldn't turn Cub over to MI6 until he had some answers. Something bad had obviously happened last night, it didn't take a fool to realise that, and Cub had turned to him instead of the more obvious and appropriate MI6 or even just a damn hospital. That must mean something, and even if Wolf had to needle it out of the boy bit by tiny bit, he'd find out what.

And besides, SAS training had taught him that the most important element of being part of a SAS unit is team loyalty. Without it, you'd just fall apart. And like it or not, as unorthodox and irregular as the situation was, Cub was part of his unit. And to see him in this state and not at least try to find out why would be unforgivable.

Anyway, there was something bothering Wolf. Something Cub couldn't deny and perhaps something that might open the conversation a little and convince the kid to talk.

"When did you get shot?" He asked, settling back in his seat, tone casual, posture relaxed, as if he were asking what Cub wanted for his birthday.

The boy stared at him for a moment, obviously confused that Wolf had dropped the subject of Scorpia so fast. "A few months ago." He answered reservedly.

"Hmm. About the time you got appendicitis was it?"

"Yeah…" Cub responded vaguely.

"How did that happen?"

"Classified."

Wolf let out a breath. "No, Cub. You are a member of my unit, and by being the leader of said unit, I have a right to know what happened."

Cub was silent for a moment, obviously trying to weigh up the situation. Finally, he rubbed his eyes and gave a short half-answer. "I got shot outside the front of the Headquarters of MI6."

Wolf couldn't be surprised. With Cub, anything was possible. "It looks pretty close to your heart. How did you survive?" He asked.

"I got lucky. Listen, is it really that important. I can think of several more relevant matters that need sorting right now," Cub stated dryly, in a blindingly obvious attempt to change the subject. Wolf decided to let it drop, for now.

"Okay, answer me this. How did you know where I live?"

"Ben. He gave me a list of emergency contacts. You were on it."

"Ben… You mean Fox?"

Cub nodded.

"How do you…" Wolf cut himself off. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." The answer was blunt but Wolf could see something like desperation creep into the kid's expression. Wolf felt sympathy well up inside him.

Cub was only a kid, at a guess Wolf would say he was seventeen, and he shouldn't be like this, so emotionally warped. Wolf felt a little ashamed at how he treated Cub in training. Back then, he had thought of him as a drain on the unit's ability, a black mark on their credibility, but having seen Cub in action at Point Blanc he had found new respect for him. He was glad to have taken bullets for him. But his obvious skill did not change the fact that he was far too young for this lifestyle.

But then Wolf quashed down his pity, knowing Cub he wouldn't want it and there were probably more pro-active things he could be doing for him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen Cub, if I'm going to help you, I need to know what's going on."

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

Cub hesitated. "Last night, some Scorpia operatives turned up at the house where I live." His voice was toneless, his eyes level and drilling into Wolf's.

"They did this." He indicated his bruised and lacerated torso. "They told me that it was just the beginning." Cub paused and sighed. "I need to get out of the country. I need to leave before anyone else gets hurt."

"Why don't you go to MI6 Cub, they can help you better than I can." Wolf's tone was gentle and Cub's reaction surprised him.

"No!" The boy said, voice impassioned and harsh. "Now that she's gone there is nothing to stop them. MI6 can't find me." His gaze was intense, Wolf felt tempted to look away. "If they find me, it's all over."

Wolf didn't know which part of that statement was more worrying. _Now that she's gone…_ What was Cub talking about?

As he comprehended these words cold realization began to hit home, he felt as if his stomach had turned to stone.

"Who was with you last night?" He didn't care much that his voice had taken on an alarmingly serious tone; he needed to know what was going on.

Cub paled as he realized that he had given away too much. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His skin glistened with new sweat.

There was a clatter in the hallway as the postman shoved the morning post through Wolf's letterbox.

"Stay there," Wolf growled at Cub, standing to go and retrieve it. He wasn't quite sure where the boy was likely to go, or what the odds were of him listening to him anyway, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Stretching his tense and aching muscles, Wolf padded out into the hallway. The post was, as always, distinctly uninteresting. There were several bills, a few crinkled flyers advertising various offers on nondescript merchandise… He tossed the bulk of it into the wastepaper basket and put the rest into the drawer of the little desk that he kept by the door.

Leaning back against the front door for a few moments, Wolf took a few seconds to organise his thoughts. He was a good leader, instinctual and fast acting in the worst of combat situations… but this, this wasn't his sort of thing.

For god sakes, why was Scorpia even interested in the boy?

With a stifled groan he forced himself to re-enter the living room.

"Do you want a shower?"

Cub blinked at him. "Err, yeah thanks," he said confusedly.

"Give me a sec, I'll try and find some clothes that might fit you."

"One step ahead of you," Cub proclaimed, leaning over the sofa and grasping hold of his shoulder bag.

"At what point, after being half beaten to death, did you think it was a good idea to pack a sleep-over bag?"

"What makes it a bad idea?" Cub answered nonchalantly as he stood up.

Wolf shot him a half enquiring look but decided to drop the subject.

"The bathroom's though here," he said pointing in the general direction. "I suggest you don't use soap, at least from the waist up, because it'll sting like hell. And pat dry rather than rub or you might start bleeding again. Don't worry if you do get blood on anything, it's had worst."

"Right."

Wolf nodded briskly, and watched as Cub traipsed into the bathroom. The door shut behind him and Wolf heard the lock click into place. A few moments later came the sound of running water.

Wolf let out a breath, stood indecisive for a few moments and then allowed his feet to walk him to the windowsill. He reached for the phone and dialled from memory.

He studied the bleak winter sky as he listened to the dialling tone. There had been a hard frost overnight; the panes in the window were scored with icy tendrils. The sky had whitened and was leaden with swollen grey clouds. It was going to snow.

"Hey, Dominic… Yeah, it's me, listen I need you to come over…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone. I know I haven't updated in a long while, but I am afraid that that is probably going to be common practise, as I have to put my priorities elsewhere. So, this has been a long time coming and is I am afraid quite a bit shorter than the previous chapter, but I decided that I had better hurry up and publish it rather than fuss around for another five months making it longer. I know I haven't replied personally to my reviewers, so apologies for that, your input is appreciated. So thanks to ****_jackie, NeverMagpie, Tsume-Hikaru, x, AR-bookwork, Thaliran, Auraya-of-the-White, Castaway5, AtlantisGirl12, Wolfmonster, Nyxelestia, hello93bye, Aimed mischief, NienkevH, CaligoAngelus, AllThatIsGoldDoesNotGlitter, agentcherub, flyingdutchman08, Latina16, DoodlesInTheSand, ObsessivelyOdd_ ****and everyone who put this story on their favourites or story alert.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Alex Rider... they rejected the paperwork on the grounds that it was written on the back of a reciept for Starbucks**

_Alex was awake when he heard the knock at the front door. It was eleven pm exactly, and he had only gone to bed a mere forty minutes before. Jack was still up; he had been listening to her moving around in the kitchen. When he held his breath he could hear the faintest sound of Paolo Nutini's soft voice._

_He sat up as he heard Jack walking out of the kitchen, obviously heading to answer the front door. Who was at the door at this time at night? A sudden feeling off utter terror gripped Alex and he threw of his covers and climbed out of the bed._

_As he tore across his room, he heard the gentle creak of the front door opening. Panic fluttered in his chest and he shouldered his way roughly through his partly open bedroom door._

_He reached the top of the stairs and paused listening. He heard Jack beginning to speak and he heard her voice falter in fear._

_Then he was racing down the stairs and as the scene below him came into view, the first thing he saw was the porch light curving off of the barrel of a Jericho __941, semi automatic pistol. _

**

* * *

**

The first few flakes of snow had begun to fall from the white streaked sky by the time Dominic had warmed up the engine on his motorbike and set off.

Because this was central London, the roads had all been gritted earlier in the morning but Dominic was cautious, expertly negotiating the bike around the few black shiny patches that the gritter had missed.

The bike drew a lot of looks as he revved it carefully down the streets. It was a cold early weekday and the working class were out in their throngs, throwing buckets of hot water onto their car windscreens and scraping at the covering of ice on their windows.

They looked up from these tedious but necessary tasks as he passed, their attention caught by the guttural purr of the bike's 248 cc engine.

The bike was a Royal Enfield Crusader and it had once belonged to his grandfather. When the old man had died, some years ago, he had left the bike to Dominic who had spent many hours restoring it to its factory condition.

On a day like this, it felt good to have the bike. It may have taken a few tries to coax the engine to start and a few minutes before it was warm enough to ride, but at least he was spared the task of scraping an inch of ice off of a windscreen with a credit card.

He knew that it would take about ten minutes to reach the block of flats on Grange Street where Adam lived from his place on St Kilda's Road.

He thought back over the conversation he had just shared with the man. He was puzzled as to why he had called him. They hadn't spoken in about four months. And now this… Dominic shook his head slightly and reaching a patch of road that seemed mostly free of ice, he pressed on the accelerator and leaned into the wind.

When he reached Grange Street a little while later, he pulled into a space at the end of the road, took the keys from the ignition, kicked the stand down and dismounted from the bike. He shed his gloves and pulled of his helmet as he began to walk towards the block of flats where Adam lived.

He didn't have to ring the bell when he got to the door leading into the foyer of the building, as someone was leaving and held the door for him as he approached. He smiled fleetingly at the person; a young woman and she smiled coyly back.

With his dark hazel eyes and smooth features, Dominic was not unaccustomed to receiving the attentions of the opposite sex. Smirking slightly he made his way across the foyer.

His trainers made a sharp noise on the cheap laminated floors. Here and there the shiny wood was streaked with dust and above his head the unlit lighting fixtures were adorned with clumps of cobwebs. There was nothing in the wide-open space but a small table, which held the logbook of the people who lived in the building and a cracked vase of fake flowers.

Dominic crossed the foyer, headed straight towards the double doors that led to the staircase to the higher floors.

He jogged up the stairs and then pushed through the door that opened onto the corridor of the second floor. He walked along the corridor, his trainers muffled now on hideous green and yellow carpet, until he reached the door that he knew to open to Adam's apartment and knocked briskly.

The door opened almost immediately.

Adam looked different than the last time Dominic had seen him. His skin was tanned and unlike Dominic he had not kept the close cut hairstyle that had been demanded when they were in training together. He also looked tired and a little worried, with circles under his eyes and worry lines across his forehead.

For an instant he looked surprised to see Dominic there and then his expression cleared and he offered him a wry smile. "Hey, sorry about this…"

Dominic frowned. "Don't be." He said simply. "What exactly _is_ going on?"

Adam paused as if trying to think of a way to explain just what was going on and then sighed and invited him in instead.

He led him through to the kitchen and instinctively put the kettle on to boil. As he took two mugs and a jar of instant coffee out of the cupboard, Dominic's eyes strayed to the washer dryer, the door of which stood open.

He felt a jolt of alarm when he saw the mass of bloodied sheets and towels inside the machine, but looking at Adam, he couldn't see anything immediately wrong with him.

The other man had noticed his wandering gaze however and shuffled awkwardly. "You haven't killed someone, have you?" Dominic asked, only half joking.

Adam shook his head but didn't smile. "It's Cub." He finally said as he spooned the coffee into the mugs. For a few seconds he didn't look at Dominic but when he finally did he added an extra spoonful of coffee into each of their mugs, he thought they might need it.

His ex-team mate was stood, frozen rigid with a mixture of shock and dismay apparent in his eyes. "What does fucking Cub have to do with anything?" He growled finally, accepting a mug of the strong black coffee from Adam.

"He came around at three am this morning…" Adam began but a disbelieving Dominic cut him off. "So, he's here then?" He demanded.

"Yes, he's taking a shower."

"_He's taking a shower_!" Dominic repeated incredulously.

"I know it's a shock, but hear me out okay." Adam said in an attempt to placate Dominic. "I haven't got all the details myself yet, but basically he's in a bit of trouble. Actually, a lot of trouble from the sounds of it…"

Dominic snorted. "So he's run to you to sort out his own goddamn mess?"

Adam frowned at him, and although they were no longer officially a unit, and so Adam was no longer officially Dominic's leader, he still shut up at the look.

"Apparently he's run into some trouble with Scorpia… He came here in an absolute state, bruised all over… he's got fucking _whip marks _and yet he doesn't want to go to MI6."

"Why would he want to go to MI6 anyway?" Dominic asked with real curiosity this time.

Adam hesitated before answering. He guessed it was too late for the truth to do any more damage. "We were wrong about Cub. I couldn't tell you before but I saw him in action, on one of my first operations. He was snowboarding down a mountain on a fucking ironing board for Christ's sake… He's a government agent Dominic. The real thing."

"That's why he was at Brecons Breacons?" Dominic accepted Adam's word without question, another old habit ingrained in to him after the time he had spent with Adam as his leader. Adam nodded.

"How the fuck did he get caught up with Scorpia?" Like Adam, Dominic was not unfamiliar with the name of the terrorist organisation. It seemed surreal to him that the teenager he remembered from training could be involved with them.

"I have no idea, but I'm going to find out," Adam sounded sure of himself for the first time. Dominic was surprised to see the resolution in his eyes. He had never thought that Adam had liked Cub very much.

"Are you going to go to MI6? What else can you do?" Dominic asked, taking a gulp of coffee and leaning back on Adam's counter.

Before Adam could answer however, they both started at the noise of a door opening somewhere in the flat.

The layout of the flat meant that the kitchen was joined to the living room by an empty doorway. The living room opened onto the corridor and straight across from it was the bathroom. To the left of the bathroom and opposite the kitchen was the bedroom. The front door was to the right of the bathroom and living room, at the end of the corridor.

Adam had said that Cub was in the shower so any minute now he would walk into the living room. From there he would come into the kitchen.

Dominic put down his coffee and waited.

* * *

Alex sat on the bathroom floor, braced uncomfortably against the side of the acrylic bathtub.

He was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a black shirt, which he left un-tucked so that it reached below the belt line of his jeans.

A towel was slung around his shoulders, catching the drips from his hair, which was dark with water. His shoulder bag sat on the tiled floor beside him and it was from this bag that Alex had removed the object that he now held in his hands, staring at it as if it mesmerised him.

The object was a semi-automatic pistol, a Baby Eagle or Jericho 941. The make originated from Israel in 1990 but had since made its way around most of the world, by import and export of varying degrees of legality.

Alex snapped the gun open and counted eleven .40 Smith and Wesson rounds. Only one bullet had been fired of the twelve that the Jericho had capacity for.

His numb fingers found the silencer that was attached to the pistol and he unscrewed it and dropped it into his bag. Now he could feel the blunt edges of the threaded barrel.

He closed his eyes and lent forward, drawing his knees towards him. He rested his forehead against his legs, felt the pistol against his stomach.

A noise outside of the room made him instantly unfurl himself and drag himself to his feet. The towel that had hung around his neck slipped off, and almost instantly a drop of water slid down his back, making him shiver.

He stood and listened, holding the gun loosely in his hand. After a few moments of silence he walked to the bathroom door and stood there, once again listening.

The barrel of the pistol tapped against his leg as he trembled slightly. The sudden movements he had made to pull himself to his feet and move across to the bathroom door had aggravated his more recent wounds and the tremors of pain that wracked him were causing his involuntary shaking.

He couldn't hear anything and decided that it was probably just Wolf moving around his apartment, but he still felt slightly uneasy as he checked the safety was on the pistol and stowed it in the waistband of his jeans, zipped his bag shut and attempted to restore Wolf's bathroom back to it's previous state. He'd bloodied a few more of Wolf's towels but there wasn't anything he could do about that now.

Grabbing hold of his bag, he walked back towards the bathroom door and listened for a few more moments before unlocking it and pushing it open.

The flat was quiet but Alex didn't think much of that, he had left Wolf on his own after all and the man didn't strike Alex as being the sort to talk to himself.

He walked across the landing and into the living room. Finding it unoccupied, he dropped his bag back down beside the sofa and headed towards the second doorway that led from the room.

Walking through the doorway, he found himself in a kitchen. It was a small room, barely able to contain the stove, fridge, sink unit and washer dryer that had been crammed into it.

The room seemed even smaller when considering the two men, both of broad proportions, who currently occupied it.

"Eagle?"

**So that was chapter two, hope you enjoyed. You guys are gonna have to tell me if you prefer longer chapters with a longer wait or shorter chapters with a shorter wait. I shall endeavour to get the next chapter out faster. Apologies again for any technical mistakes. Distortment.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello. I have another update, a lot quicker coming than the last one because I finally got to write some action... ish. But you'll have to read on to find out exactly what happens. Apologies in advance for any OCness. Developing the characters of Wolf and Eagle has been a bit difficult in a way because the books don't give you very much on them, and also you've got to respect that they'll behave differently under different situations. Alex is probably a bit OC but there is a reason for this as you will find out as this story developes. I've had a lot of response over how people want me to update this fic and I think there has been some confusion because I wasn't very specific. Either the fics will be short (around 2000-3000) words but updated once a month or so, or longer (4500-5500) and updated after a longer period of time, every few months say. Anyway, I haven't responded to reviews again because I haven't had time. So thanks to **_Leonessa Ivanovna, Aimed mischeif, SweetlyDesolated, Unknown, krhorsejumper97, Ryuusquall, Devachi and Sabsi13 and once again to everybody who put this story on thier alerts and favourites. _

**Disclaimer: The Alex Rider books belong to Anthony Horowitz...**

Eagle looked almost exactly the same as the last time that Cub had seen him, handsome with dark golden eyes and close-cut army style hair. The only difference was that now he was dressed-down, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a leather jacket over a black t-shirt, instead of the khaki attire that he had sported at the SAS training camp.

Instantly unnerved by the man's sudden appearance Cub raked his eyes over him, studying his body language and searching for concealed weapons. This sort of mental strip-search came naturally to him now. He had spent ages trying to de-programme these vital habits from himself after he had finished missions, but now he had need for them.

"Hey Cub." His gaze flickered back to the man's face as he spoke. Without saying a word, he then turned to Wolf.

"What's he doing here?" He asked, hoping that he hadn't made a mistake in putting his trust in Wolf. He had been aware that there was a possibility that Wolf would turn him over to MI6, out of duty or out of a misguided feeling that Cub would be safer with them.

Feeling sick, he realised that if Wolf had called Eagle to help him take him to MI6, then he might have to use the Jericho pistol sooner than he'd expected. He really didn't want to turn a gun on either of the SAS soldiers but he could not afford to be taken into MI6 _custody_ again.

"I called him." Wolf answered, carefully reading the boy's expression. "I can't get you out of the country on my own."

"Wait, you're helping him to leave the country?" Eagle cut across any reply that Cub might have made. Without waiting for an answer he went on, "Are you fucking stupid? MI6 are going to be looking for him. He won't make it past airport security!"

"That's true, but Allen Bradley will."

Wolf and Eagle both turned to look at Cub as he spoke. Wolf opened his mouth to speak but before the first word left his mouth, Cub had turned on his heel and walked back into the living room. He heard the zip of the boy opening his bag and the distinctive sound of rummaging and then the kid reappeared holding something small, square and red.

Cub flipped the passport open and showed them the information page. It was his picture but not his name. Wolf knew from meeting the kid in Point Blanc that he was called Alex… something.

"That's not your passport?" Eagle asked, looking up from the passport. Cub shook his head. "But it's your picture… Where'd you get it?"

Cub smirked. "I have my contacts."

Eagle frowned. "Don't fuck with me. This isn't a game Cub…"

"It'll get me on a plane. Isn't that enough?" The kid sounded irritated. "And besides, who the hell are you to try and lecture me. You didn't give a shit about me when I was cramping your style at Brecon Beacons."

"Yeah, well to be honest I still don't give a shit about you and whatever bloody mess you've gotten yourself into. What I care about is you dragging my teammate into it. You realise that if Wolf is caught helping you, he'll be kicked out of the SAS and worse!" Eagle shouted, quickly provoked by Cub's attitude.

His hot temper had always been his biggest downfall, but his skill and unwavering loyalty to his team members had been significant enough to outweigh any fears that he could fuck up a mission by loosing sight of the objective by allowing himself to be wound up. He was a valuable SAS operative but was always kept firmly away from any matters of diplomacy.

Wolf was about to cut in before things got out of hand but Cub spoke first, in a flat and angry voice. "There are bigger things at stake here."

"Like what?" It was Wolf who spoke now, sensing that they might be on the edge of getting something out of the boy. But Cub just shook his head.

"I really can't tell you," he said, emphasizing each word as he spoke it.

Wolf let out a breath and leant back against the counter, his mind was racing overtime. As he sucked in another deep breath of cool air, he leant back his head and closed his eyes. Cub and Eagle had fallen silent, watching him, knowing that he was making decisions.

When Wolf opened his eyes he looked towards Cub. The kid's posture was relaxed, he was stood, arms loose at his sides, fists unclenched. But his eyes were heavy with tension and Wolf could tell that he to was doing some serious thinking. Wolf wouldn't have been surprised if the teenager had suddenly upped and taken flight. He knew that the kid was worried, and even scared. But he didn't know why.

On the verge of making his final decision he glanced out of the kitchen window, eyes casting across the frozen street below. As he looked two black jeeps, a smart silver looking car that he couldn't identify from this angle and a black van pulled up at the curb, right outside his building. Instantly he tensed and his change in posture must have alerted the other two, because they appeared at his shoulder as he looked out.

The doors to the jeep opened and several black-clad men poured out, guns across their shoulders. They ran to throw open the doors on the van, releasing more armed men out onto the icy pavement. Two men and a woman in civilian dress stepped out of the fourth vehicle. Wolf whirled around to look at Cub, but the boy was no longer at his side.

Exchanging a serious look with Eagle, Wolf hurried out of the kitchen and into the living room where Cub was zipping up his shoulder bag.

"Are they here for you?" Wolf demanded and the boy looked up at him as he swung his bag onto his shoulder. "You tell me," Cub replied, eyes searching his face.

"What does that mean?" The confusion in Wolf's voice must have told Cub something because his expression cleared and his unreadable eyes filled with determination.

"Do you know of any access to the roof here?" The boy asked in a tone to match Wolf's.

"Yeah, but it's locked… You're not seriously thinking of running, are you? Who are they anyway?" Wolf could feel the gravity of the situation from the urgency of Cub's actions. He wanted to help the kid, which was a decision that he had always known he would make. But he needed the kid to help him too and tell him what the hell was going on.

"They're MI6," Cub replied indicating the kitchen. "And yes, I am seriously thinking of running. Could you show me the access to the roof?"

Wolf didn't answer or move for a moment. He realised with a feeling of utter disbelief that he was going to help Cub, and he knew that it was going to cost him everything, his home, his job… maybe even his life. But he couldn't turn his back on the kid, not when he knew he was so desperate.

Coming to his decision, Wolf knew that they had a very short space of time before MI6's operatives arrived. He also knew that at this moment, they would be securing the perimeter of the building. But he knew as well what Cub was thinking, and it was the best plan they had.

Wolf pushed past Cub and into the hallway. Cub raced after him, closely followed by Eagle. The two stopped at Wolf's bedroom door as he stood on his bed and tore a painting off of the wall above it to reveal a safe. As he fiddled with the combination he called out to Eagle. "You know where the guns are kept! Go get them!"

The other man froze for a moment as if making a momentous decision but then he tore out of the room. Cub waited, panic flooding through his veins, not knowing what was going on and then Wolf yelled back to him as he flung open the door of the safe. "There's a first aid kit above the kitchen sink!"

Knowing that the man meant for him to go and retrieve it Cub immediately spun around and tore down the hall and into the bathroom. He threw open the door of the kitchen sink and grabbed the large green plastic box, tucked it into his shoulder bag and then turned back and into the hallway. A minute must have past since they had spotted the agents outside.

He skidded into the hall to be met with both Eagle and Wolf. There were two large rucksacks at Wolf's feet and he was in the process of stuffing a small fire-retardant bag into the top of one of them. Eagle however had dispensed a different kind of load onto the floor. There were three handguns, three holsters and several boxes of different calibre cartridges on the floor in front of him where he knelt. As Cub watched he loaded the guns, before engaging the safety on each.

Wolf who had hefted one of the rucksacks onto his back, immediately took two of the holsters from Eagle and strapped one to his waist and the other to his right calf. He then took two of the handguns while Eagle grabbed the third, holstering it to his hip. He quickly stood up and then grabbed the second rucksack and swung it onto his back too.

Making sure their weapons were concealed the two SAS soldiers led the way to the front door. Nobody spoke. There would be time for that later, if they managed to get out of this.

Wolf opened the door, stepped out and looked both ways. Finding the hallway deserted, he signalled for Cub and Eagle to follow him. They walked quickly down the hallway and Wolf led them through the doors that led to the stairs. Looking down, they saw that the MI6 agents were not yet climbing the stairs.

Cub was confused. What was taking them so long? He knew that he should probably be grateful for the extra time but somehow he felt like they were walking into a trap. However, pushing down his uncertain thoughts he followed Wolf and Eagle as they began to jog up the stairs.

They had just passed the third floor when they heard the sound of doors crashing open below them. None of them looked down or said a word but instead quickened their pace, taking the steps two at a time, or three in the case of Eagle who was taller.

They heard yelling below and knew that the MI6 operatives were in pursuit but they had a good head start. The building wasn't particularly tall so they soon arrived at the top landing. Wolf led them down it at breakneck speed.

Cub felt his tired and abused muscles complaining. Climbing the stairs had pulled at the wounds on his back and stomach and as well as aching, he now had sharp shots of pain spiking through his whole body. But adrenaline gave him the strength he needed to continue and he kept pace with the two SAS soldiers as they raced down the hallway.

Wolf stopped suddenly at an unmarked door. As Eagle and Cub skidded to a halt behind him, he twisted on one of his legs and dealt a powerful kick to the door with his other foot. The door was almost torn of its hinges and opened with a bang, slamming into the wall to the side of it as it was thrown open.

Through the door was another staircase, this one small, twisting and metal. One after the other they mounted the steps that clanged disquietingly beneath them and came to another door. This one was padlocked and although Wolf threw his entire weight against it, he could not make it open. They stood panting, unable to go any further.

Below them, they heard the noises of the MI6 agents reaching the hallway, through the door that was still open at the bottom of the spiral metal steps.

**So that was Chapter 3. Please tell me what you think, particuarly about the development of the characters. Apologies again for any mistakes, it is once more unbetad (if that is a word). Distorment. **


	4. Chapter 4

_Long time no see. This chapter has been hanging around on my laptop for months but I wasn't very happy with it and was going to improve it. However I think it might be best to just publish it and try to do better on the next chapter. Once again I am sorry for the very long wait and I can assure you that you are likely to be in for another one because I have a very busy summer ahead. However I have written out a detailed - that's to say about twenty words - plan for this story and I now know what I am doing which is always a help so hopefully it should be a little easier to get these chapters out. Sorry again for not responding to reviews but seeing as I barely have time to write I think it's a miracle that I even remember to mention them here. So thanks to **Sabsi13, Ryuusquall, SweetlyDesolated, Siphor, bb, Tethis and Bumpkin** and also to all those who added this story to favourites or their alerts. Bye for now._

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the rights to Alex Rider. Not. **

**Chapter 4**

Cub pushed past Wolf in the narrow space at the top of the stairs, as the noise of the doors crashing open further down the landing below reached their ears. The teenager folded quickly to his knees so that his eyes were level with the padlock, swinging his bag round in front of him and unzipping one of the pockets at the side of the bag.

Wolf watched as Cub removed a roll of material from the pocket and unfolded it to reveal a set of pin/tumbler lock picks**. **Realising that Cub meant to pick the lock he swung around, drawing his weapon, with Eagle at his side. "We've got your back," he said quietly to Cub so as not to draw attention to them, although it wouldn't be long until the MI6 agents noticed the open door at the bottom of the stairs anyway.

Cub worked fast, words spoken to him from his uncle long ago whispering in his head as he worked the lock. Lock picking was just one of many skills that his late uncle had seen fit to equip him with, and although working with a pin/tumbler lock pick set was perhaps easier, he was just as happy working with a strategically bent nail and a paperclip**.**

Footsteps pounded down the corridor below and then slowed. Wolf carefully shifted his position, flicking the safety off his gun, estimating that the open door had probably just been noticed and that the agents were now stealthily moving in. "Hurry it up Cub!" He growled.

Barely after he had spoken however, he heard the rasp of the chain signalling that Cub had succeeded in picking the padlock. Wolf turned with Eagle as Cub straightened up, zipping the pocket on his bag back up and then they slipped through the door as one.

Cold air hit them hard as they stepped out onto the roof closing the door quietly behind them. Immediately Wolf and Eagle scanned the rooftop, locating possible routes of escape and looking for anything they could use to block the door, as there wasn't anyway of fixing the padlock onto this side of the door.

The roof was large, flat and concrete with the odd aerial spiking into the dark sky above them. A few pieces of rubble, left behind by repairs taken place a long time ago were scattered here and there but nothing that could help to block the door.

"There!" Eagle said suddenly, pointing to their left. Cub and Wolf looked to where he was gesturing. The building that was next to the block of flats on this side had a roof that was slightly lower than the one on which they were currently standing. From where they were stood it was hard to judge the distance but it couldn't be more than a meter.

Not yet knowing how they would get down from this second roof, but knowing that they had to get moving they set out at a run, Eagle and Wolf tucking their guns back into their holsters.

As they reached the edge of the roof, they leapt together and Cub heard the sound of the door behind them banging open as the roof of the second building rushed up to meet him. Cub felt the balls of his feet kiss against the concrete, effectively absorbing the shock into his legs, which he stiffened slightly, although not so much that his knees would be injured and then leant forward and rolled**.** He groaned slightly as the impact tugged at his still recent injuries and stumbled a little as he sprang up from his roll.

At either side of him Wolf and Eagle immediately began to run and Cub hurried after them, pain continuing to jolt through him. Through his fuzz of pain however he registered the sound of gunfire and began to weave and spread out slightly from his companions so as not to present so easy a target.

Neither Wolf nor Eagle were yet to return fire, it hadn't got to that point yet. They would only risk shooting back if it was really necessary or else the pursuit might become deadly on both sides. Right now, the agents were aiming low, all of the bullets ricocheting off the concrete at their heels. This was slightly reassuring to Cub as it proved that he so far had MI6 fooled, if they knew the whole story they would be aiming to kill by now.

Cub put on extra speed as a bullet struck the concrete a little too close to his heel, adrenaline spiking once more in his blood and quelling his tiredness and pain as it came. He was following Eagle, who in turn was following Wolf who seemed to know what he was doing, but Cub couldn't help feeling a stab of doubt as the dark-haired man led them closer and closer to the edge of the roof that overlooked the street. From here it must be at least a two-storey drop to the ground below and yet Wolf was racing towards the edge as though he intended to jump.

And then the man launched himself into space, but Cub didn't slow as Eagle too took off, instead following them, closer and closer to the edge…and then over.

He had had perhaps half a second to judge the jump before he'd been forced to take off, his speed too much for him to simply check, calculate and then jump. For a window of time too small to barely consider he was in the air and then he slammed into the metal barriers at the edge of the scaffolding. He was sure that he would have gone over, had Eagle not seized him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back so hard, that this time he impacted against the side of the building.

They had landed onto a thin, planked walkway; part of scaffolding that had been erected at the front of the building beside Wolfs. Cub didn't get a chance to recover from the jump before Eagle was dragging him away from the wall, encouraging him to run.

He followed the two soldiers as they ran at top speed along the scaffolding, skidding to a stop behind them as they came to a hole in the scaffolding. Without stopping Wolf quickly climbed down the ladder that led from this level of scaffolding to the one below. Eagle seized hold of Cub once again and shoved him in front of him, onto the ladder.

As soon as Cub's feet hit the planks he twisted round and raced after Wolf, quickly followed by Eagle. He spared a glance over the edge of the scaffolding and his stomach twisted as he saw that there were agents converging on the street below them, forming a semi-circle that would effectively box them in once they reached the street.

He wasn't given much time to observe the scene however, because then Eagle grabbed hold of him once more, shoving him onwards. Cub was suddenly aware that he had drawn his gun, and that it was vaguely pointed in his direction as the man ran. In the brevity of the time that he got to survey the man as he turned him around, he saw that his eyes were set and dark with resolve. Unable to ponder this, feeling hopelessness in every aspect of his being, he ran on.

The agents simply waited for them as they made their way down the scaffolding, a few of them kept their weapons trained on them as they made their descent, but they knew that there was nowhere for them to run.

Tasting defeat, Cub's feet hit the pavement. But then, unexpectedly, Eagle seized hold of him again and Cub felt the cold touch of a barrel against his temple.

Frozen up, Cub quickly worked out the easiest way to pull out of the man's grasp, disarm him and draw his own weapon, but instead of immediately doing so, he waited. Although every instinct in his body recoiled against the touch of the gun, he didn't move.

He was confused and didn't understand what Eagle was doing. Different scenarios chased each other around his head, but he knew it was better to act on solid information than on impulsive guesswork.

The agents who were surrounding them had instantly shifted their aim onto Eagle as he put the gun to Cub, and Wolf whirled round. He must have comprehended the situation more fully than Cub did, because he inclined his head fractionally before stepping up beside Eagle, drawing his own weapon and turning to face the semi-circle of agents.

"Hope you're a good actor kid…cus we've got one hell of show to put on here," Eagle growled in his ear, just loud enough for Cub to hear him, a fierce expression fixed upon his face. Finally understanding what was going on, and realising the part he had to play Cub immediately fixed the man with his coldest glare. "I never really liked drama," he hissed back.

He rather felt that the acidic look the soldier was giving him now was more genuine. Eagle didn't get a chance to respond however, because the armed semi-circle of men was breaking up and the three people, that they had seen from the window getting out of the smart silver car, were walking forwards. As they stopped to stand in front of Cub, Wolf and Eagle, the ranks of armed men closed behind them.

Cub recognised Blunt and Jones, one so grey and blank that they could have blended in with the skyline and the other barely concealing a look of concern. The third person, a well-built, balding man who looked to be in his mid forties, cutting an impressive silhouette in a crisp black suit, was someone who Cub did not recognise.

"Mr. Cassidy, Mr. Martin," Blunt spoke as if he was greeting them into his office. Cub realised that Mr. Cassidy and Mr. Martin must be who Wolf and Eagle actually were. It was strange to think this, although he had always known that the names he knew them by were only codenames. He felt a ridiculous desire to laugh.

"Get your men out of our way Blunt," Eagle snarled

Blunt didn't register any emotion in response to this demand, not that Cub had expected him to. However, apart from annoying and mystifying him as that particular trait of Blunt had always done, it also told Cub that the little charade that Eagle and Wolf were going to try to pull off was not going to work. Blunt was not a fool and his ability to disconnect from his emotions would mean that he could look on this situation with an efficient and unbiased viewpoint.

Realising this, and knowing that the plans that had been drawn up the night before had just been massively altered, if not destroyed, in the few seconds he had before Blunt responded he began to gather his thoughts and try to think up a way to salvage the situation.

"I'm disappointed in you Alex. I'd judged you to be less foolish than this…" Blunt said smoothly, over the noise echoing in Cub's head. A surge of anger spiked in the boy at these words. It irritated him that Blunt thought he could demean him like this. It wasn't as if Cub even cared very much what the man thought of him. And he knew that Blunt's character profile of him was as interchangeable as the body kit of a flash car. At one moment, he could be a hero and a valuable asset that Blunt simply could not replace and at the next he was nothing, something to be lied to, manipulated and used.

Deciding not to give Blunt the pleasure of a response, Cub instead, having come to his verdict on his current situation, stepped forward out of Eagle's grip, who didn't try to stop him, until he was face to face with Blunt. "I want to make a deal." He said just as smoothly as the man had spoken before.

"What are you talking about?" Blunt asked and if there could have been emotion on his face Cub knew that at that moment it would have been confusion. Cub glanced past his shoulder at Eagle and Wolf who had both lowered their weapons and were now watching Blunt and Cub with apprehension and appeared as bewildered at Cub's words as Cub knew Blunt felt.

He turned back to Blunt. "Can we talk about this somewhere private?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Whoa how amazing am I! A second update within what... three days? I know that it is short and I was planning to make it longer but I decided to leave it as it is for two reasons. A. The ending seemed like a good place to stop at. B. I feel I owe a fast update to those who have been hanging around for months waiting for me to get a move on. Thanks to **Mainn, Bumpkin, LED429, SweetlyDesolated, Independent-Chick-92, Ryuusquall and skepsis66** for reviewing and also to everybody who put this story on their alerts or favourites. It's because of you guys that I felt spurred on enough to write another instalment so fast. Just don't get used to it, it's only because I have briefly managed to stem the flow of coursework, revision and controlled assessment preparation that I have managed to get one out so fast. I am on work experience all next week and then have two busy weeks at school so don't expect another update in a while, another reason why I felt it would be good to post this now. Just a final note to some of those who have reviewed to say that they are confused about what is going on in the story. That is actually the intention at the moment, so I am quite pleased that you don't know what is going on. The answers will unravel themselves as the plot unfolds but there is a bit of a wait yet. However if it is really irritating anyone not knowing then there is the possibility that I could write a one shot to run alongside this fic that would explain exactly what is going on. The problem with this is that it would effectively ruin the rest of this fic for anyone who read it. But I leave the decision in your hands. If nobody wants it published now then I will say that there is a chance that I will publish it upon the completion of this fic to compliment it anyway. So, I think I've gone on for long enough. Thanks again and apologies as there is another cliffhanger coming up. I just love them, don't you? Distortment _

**Disclaimer: Yep, I own Alex Rider. He has his own care manual and everything. What'd you mean that goldfish don't count as teenage super spies? **

Alex found himself sat in the back of the sleek silver car, which had discharged the two MI6 superiors onto the slick pavement in the first place. The car was a Bentley Phantom and felt a little attention grabbing for MI6's tastes to Alex, but then he supposed that since they'd arrived with a convoy of army vehicles it wasn't like they could remain unnoticed anyhow.

Looking out of the car's tinted window, even now Alex could see some of the operatives, who had formed a blockade around the little knot of vehicles, talking authoritatively to some of the people who lived along the street and were curious as to what was going on. He couldn't guess how MI6 was explaining the presence of more than twenty armed, black clad agents to these unsuspecting civilians but that wasn't his problem and he had more important things to worry about right now.

The back of the Bentley was spacious, with luxury black leather seats. The layout of the seats was two at the very back, where you'd expect them to be in a car, but there were also a further two more that faced each other across the back of the car, a few inches from the other seats but facing across the car rather than down it as was the norm. They were positioned in the place that you'd expect the doors of an ordinary car to be. But a Bentley Phantom was no ordinary car; it's extended shape allowed room for these extra seats, which were a good deal wider than a seat in an average car, and also provided ample foot room to spare.

But even with all the space in the back of the Phantom it still felt incredibly strange and more than a bit uncomfortable to Alex, who was sat on one of the extra seats, that he was mere inches from the head and deputy head of the Special Operations division of MI6. Blunt, who had taken claim of both of the rear seats, was the closest to him, with less than two inches between them. Jones was right across from him.

He had been in close proximity to both of them before, but in the back of this car, which was a relatively tiny space compared to Blunt's roomy office at the Royal and General Bank, with, he had noted with a feeling of unease, all the doors locked and armed operatives standing all around, it felt different…almost intimidating. Although of course he would never show or admit to this.

He could only be thankful that the tall, balding man who had accompanied the two MI6 officials – he had learnt that he was actually the man in charge of the army base that had supplied the soldiers to MI6 for their recovery of Alex, which would have seemed slightly over the top to Alex if it wasn't for the fact that he was aware that they knew that Scorpia was involved – had been told in no uncertain terms by Blunt that he was not welcome in this conversation. If that bulk of a man had been here then the atmosphere would have been close to suffocating.

As his eyes flickered over the scene outside of the window once again, he could see this man now, pacing backwards and forwards in front of the open van that had brought some of the operatives and in which Wolf and Eagle were currently situated under armed guard.

He dragged his eyes back to the inside of the Bentley, his gaze skipping over Jones and Blunt who had been silent in the brief interim period since he had outlined his plan to them.

As his eyes sought out the gaze of Blunt, the man finally turned his attention to him, rather than the blank spot on the ceiling that he had appeared to be closely examining for the past few minutes, including during Alex's explanation. "I don't believe you.' He said coldly and Alex felt his heart rate pick up at these words that felt to him like a death sentence.

"You have never shown any willing to be cooperative with MI6," Blunt continued, "and I don't think that your offer is genuine now. Especially when there is so much room for your own… personal loss in this plan of yours."

"That's true." Alex said quietly, locking away the anger and fear that was mounting inside of him, trying to remain calm and rational. Now that he knew that Blunt not only mistrusted him, which he had been expecting, but also didn't feel shy about voicing this aloud he realised the need to beat Blunt at his own game. It was time for him to manipulate the two people who had done nothing but manipulate him since they had first met. "But if I don't do this then I'll lose it all for definite."

"I don't not trust that you'll do anything for your personal gain, but it is the lengths that you'd be willing to go to for our organisation that I doubt. After all, your original plan was definitely not in the favour of MI6." Blunt replied and his eyes, which had so recently been staring into space, were now utterly focused on Alex, giving him that dissecting look that Alex had been under before. The look that told the young spy that nothing on his face was escaping the notice of this man, nothing in his eyes. So he kept his face relaxed and his eyes blank and downcast. He couldn't tell whether his attempt to hide his emotions from Blunt was working, all he could do was hope.

"I have already explained to you why I didn't come to MI6…" Alex began but then Blunt jumped in again. "Exactly. How can we trust that exactly that situation won't arise again? If it did and you reverted to your original plan then the consequences for us could be devastating."

"But if MI6 could offer protection…" Alex said, slowly and deliberately, letting his words trail off to hang in the air between the three of them.

Blunt looked over at Jones.

* * *

Adam felt slightly sick as he sat on the unforgiving metal bench inside of the van. Dominic was sat across from him, on a second bench, head down and burning a hole in the floor of the van with his blistering stare. At the front and the back of the van stood two of the operatives, with their faces that looked like they had been carved from stone and assault rifles slung across their fronts. Adam recognised the type, was the type himself. They were soldiers, disciplined, dedicated and steadfast. In a different scenario they might be the sorts of people with whom Adam might share a drink and swap war stories with.

But right now they were their captors, keeping them imprisoned in this small confined space, under the order of MI6. Adam didn't know what was going on, what Cub was playing out or what would happen to him. He wouldn't often admit to being scared, but right now that was the only explanation for the knot in his stomach. As his thoughts turned to his job, his house and even his life and how his recent actions cast his entire livelihood into turmoil, a new wave of nausea crept up on him.

Trying to catch Dominic's eye once again, he was once more unsuccessful. The force of the man's gaze could not be broken. Trying to read his expression also reaped a similar result. His old teammate's face wasn't exactly guarded, but the intensity that could be seen upon it could have been borne from many emotions. Adam could at least guess that anger would be one of them. It was likely that Dominic was angry with himself, for getting himself caught up in this, at Cub for creating the problem in the first place and also at Adam himself for ringing Dominic and bringing him into the whole mess. Suddenly Adam was grateful that he hadn't broken the other man's concentration.

More time passed, marked by the chill tendrils of wind that broke in through the open door, shattering over the back of the soldier who stood guard there, and fragmenting throughout the van, infusing the air with it's coldness, so that when Adam breathed out his breath streamed from his hot mouth in a white mist that dissipated in front of him. Just outside the van, the rasp of boots on the icy pavement could be heard, as the tall balding man paced back and forth and as the other operatives moved around. Occasionally the rhythm of this rasping was broken by the odd voice, a murmur to a colleague, a short bark to a civilian or a quiet call across the street from those who lived there and were exchanging speculations as to what was occurring on that winter clutched morning.

Finally he heard the noise of car doors slamming and more footsteps crunch towards the van. He could hear the distinctive cracking of ice as the woman's high heels drive into the frost.

The footsteps stopped outside of the van and Adam leant his head to one side slightly as he tried to listen to the lowered voices that begun to mummer just a few feet from where he is sitting , and then the balding man who had stopped his pacing shouts out for the two soldiers in the van to stand down. Once they had clambered out, Cub's profile appeared at the entrance to the van and he smiled loftily at them. "You ready for a mission boys?"

Wolf and Eagle both turned their gazes to stare blankly at Cub, bemused by his change in attitude and still confused on the matter of what exactly was going on. Exchanging glances they both rose to their feet and climbed out of the back of the van.

"Agent Rider has requested your assistance on a mission that he is going to undertake on the behalf of MI6," the woman said almost immediately after Wolf and Eagle's heels had kissed the pavement. "If you accept then we will be willing to overlook the discrepancies on your behalf that have recently occurred."

"A mission?" Wolf questioned, eyes flicking over Cub's face.

"A mission," the woman confirmed. "If you are quite ready, and by the looks of your luggage I'd assume you are, then we can continue on to Headquarters for a briefing."

Still bewildered Wolf once again looked over at Eagle, whose face had smoothed out although there was something of puzzlement about him. Wolf was still utterly mystified and out of pace with the events but somehow he was beginning to think that this was maybe just a side effect of being in the company of Cub, who was quickly becoming something of an enigma.

The woman and man were already heading back to the Bentley Phantom, not waiting for confirmation from the two SAS men that they would indeed assist Cub on whatever mission he was about to participate in. But then again Wolf couldn't see that they really had much choice in the matter. After all, the woman herself had said that only if they agreed would MI6 overlook their _discrepancies. _It didn't take much to guess what the consequences would be if they refused.

Eagle shrugged under Wolf's gaze and then grabbed his rucksack from the back of the van. Wolf followed suit.

* * *

Cub was all too used to the office at the Royal and General Bank. Despite its blankness and coldness that reflected its occupant, there was still something of the familiar about it, since Cub had found himself within it so often over the past months. Wolf and Eagle however appeared slightly awkward and uncomfortable within the office.

The three of them were sat in leather chairs on one side of the desk, facing Blunt who sat on the other side and Jones who occupied her seat in the corner. Cub slouched back against the back of his chair, looking for all the world like a teenager crashed out on a friend's couch. Wolf and Eagle were shooting him puzzled glances over his apparent confidence and outright disrespect, but he ignored them. This was his territory and not theirs. That was apparent in their rigid postures and disconcerted expressions. He knew how to play this game and they didn't.

"So, Mr Cassidy and Mr Martin, I don't know how much Agent Rider has told you but I think an overview of the mission objective would be useful to all involved in any case" here Blunt gave Cub a significant look. Wolf's feeling of bemusement mounted. It was strange enough to hear Cub called 'Agent Rider', let alone the fact that this man, Blunt, head of the Special Operations division of MI6 was obviously well acquainted with him and more than that, seemed wary of him as if he presented a threat in some way. But that couldn't be right. The head of MI6 couldn't possibly feel intimidated by a teenager…could he?

Wolf tried to unwrap his twisting thoughts as the man Blunt began to speak. As he listened, a pit opened in his stomach.

_Sorry about the muddle up in the tenses and thanks to **SweetlyDesolated **for pointing it out. I hope it's sorted now, I have no idea how I do it but I always seem to get into a huge mess with tenses and once I've done it I always find it hard to fix... anyway I think (hope, pray, beg) that it is now sorted and if it isn't then I am really sorry. Distortment _


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to _**Mainn, Sweetly Desolated, Bumpkin, J, Sabsi13, Ryuusquall, nb, , Spring Mayflower and ummm**_ for reviewing the last chapter. Sorry about the long time between updates. Nothing very exciting happens this chapter but the next chapter cuts pretty much right to the action and things should pick up from there. Much easier to write when things are actually happening and probably much easier to read too. Sorry for spending so long setting the scene but it felt important to the story to do so. Anyway enjoy and please tell me what you think. Also I am going to shamelessly self-advertise here, could you please check out my other story Mercury. It's my first ever shot at poetry so I would like to hear what you think. Thanks. Distortment x_

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

The briefing didn't last long. It was mostly delivered by the Jones woman and uninterrupted apart from a few comments and suggestions from Cub and also a number of questions and observations from Wolf and Eagle. Once the talking had finished the two men were silent, digesting the information that had just been shared with them.

Blunt looked up from a fan of paper that he had been studying on his desk to look at Cub. "Obviously this has all happened rather quickly so we have not been able to commission Smithers with anything specific. There are however several things that he has been working on that may come in useful…" he paused and locked his gaze utterly on the young brown eyes that glinted at him from across the expanse of glass and metal. As always the distance between them was far further than the mere span of the desk.

"Whilst you're there your personal effects will also be returned to you." Blunt stressed the words 'personal effects' in the sentence. "On that matter, I would be interested to know where you procured the semi-automatic pistol found in your possession from."

"During the initial struggle at the house I disarmed one of the Scorpia operatives," Cub said with a shrug. "The weapon got kicked under the sofa. I only found it when I came to on the living room floor." Wolf frowned at the explanation. Cub's body language was relaxed and his gaze steady, nothing in the way he spoke or the way he looked suggested that he was lying and yet…there seemed to be something slightly off about the young agent, in fact Wolf had garnered that impression of the boy from the very moment that he had first looked at him after coming around on his sofa.

"There is one round missing from the weapon…" Blunt let the statement trail of, leaving Cub in no doubt that it was anything less than a question. "Like I said, there was a struggle, a shot got fired into the ceiling." The young spy answered and his voice was casual, his expression one that said 'that's it, there's nothing else'.

Blunt continued to stare at the boy for a few more lingering moments and then he nodded. "I suppose that the fact you're carrying says that you are not adverse to shooting," he said and then continued without waiting for an affirmative. "The weapon will be returned to you." He gave Cub another significant look but the boy appeared unfazed and merely looked back steadily.

"That'll be all then Agent. Smithers will tell you where to go to collect the necessary paperwork and flight information." Blunt was already back to pursuing the sheets in front of him. He didn't give Wolf or Eagle any regard in the slightest.

"Good luck." Jones said as she walked around the desk and opened the door for them, something that seemed strange to Wolf and Eagle until they saw that as Cub walked out she leant close to him and spoke softly in his ear. Without hesitating the young spy walked on and the two SAS men followed him out.

Cub appeared to know where he was going and this wasn't something to escape the notice of the two men who walked at his shoulders. Wolf didn't have to wonder how Cub was so acquainted with the building and the two spymasters who ran it. Obviously the events that had happened in the French Alps had not been a one-time thing. A part of him wasn't surprised. The kid had shown himself to be more than resourceful on that mission, and of course it also helped that the kid possessed that strange rational madness that military intelligence seemed so fond of and that allowed him to do things such as snowboard down a mountain on an ironing board.

Cub led them to the lift and pressed the call button. There was a moment of silence as the three of them waited for the lift to arrive and Wolf wondered if he ought to break it. There were certainly things that needed discussing, as he knew that both he and Eagle had not been filled in with the entire picture. Jones and Blunt had almost definitely been holding something back.

The very reason that had been given for the three of them embarking on this mission had sounded off. Jones had made it sound like Cub was merely doing them a favour and that since he required backup it made sense that Eagle and Wolf should pay for their 'discrepancies' by providing Cub with this resource.

But it didn't make sense. The mission didn't sound like one that would benefit particularly by using an operative of Cub's age. It didn't fit in with Cub's previous desperation that he would now be so willing to cooperate with MI6. And it didn't explain why the organisation had gone all out to bring Cub in.

More infuriating than the fact that Wolf felt utterly left in the dark about this mission was the fact that he still didn't know what exactly had occurred last night nor what had happened for the incident to occur in the first place. When MI6 had turned up and Cub had got set to run both Wolf and Eagle had willingly made the decision to go with him. They had accepted that that moment was not one for getting answers and had been willing to wait. It was the same thing that they would have done for any other member, be it temporary, unorthodox or ex, of their unit. But now the situation had been twisted completely out of shape and Wolf was far from sure that he and Eagle were ever going to get any answers.

Despite all of that however Wolf kept his mouth shut and waited without a noise with the other two for the lift to arrive. The hallway of the Headquarters of the Special Operations division of MI6 was not the place for discussing any of those thoughts that had just run through his head. More than wanting to keep it confidential, he also felt that tensions might run slightly high when the subjects were broached and he doubted that Blunt or Jones would be particularly amused if a full scale argument escalated right outside their office.

He almost let out a sigh of relief when the doors to the lift finally opened. The tension in the hallway had almost been killing him. Eagle was still settled firmly in his dangerously calm aura and continued to attempt to set fire to everything he looked at, including Wolf, with his blazing stare.

Cub on the other hand, just merely appeared deep in thought and besides the fact that the silence on behalf of the boy was killing him, Wolf also couldn't help but get the impression that Cub was busy making huge and important decisions without informing or consulting Eagle or himself first. It was infuriating and that coupled with the fact that it was Cub's fault that all of this had happened in the first place was making it very hard for Wolf to remain calm in the presence of the boy. Super spy or not Wolf was going to make sure that he would answer for their current situation when the time came.

There was an irritating pinging noise as the lift arrived and the doors opened smoothly. There was nobody currently occupying the small square space so they immediately stepped forward into it. Wolf found himself closest to the buttons that needed to be pressed to chose what floor they were travelling to. "Eleventh floor" Cub said softly from somewhere to his left. Wolf reached out and pressed the small gold button with the number 11 lacquered onto it in black. There was another gentle ping and the doors trundled shut.

For a terrible moment after the doors had closed and sealed them in, Wolf thought that Eagle was finally going to snap. There was only so much that a man could take and for Eagle that was less than most. However, despite the claustrophobic feeling that had been imposed on them by the fact that they were trapped together at such close quarters, Eagle still held his tongue and if anything Wolf thought that the smouldering of his eyes was cooling off slightly although he knew that that was probably just wishful thinking.

The movement of the lift was so smooth that it barely felt like they were moving but only a few seconds later the doors opened once again. They found themselves looking out into a hallway that was almost identical to the one that they had just left. In fact Wolf might have thought that they hadn't moved at all if it were not for the fact that the artwork that was hung tastefully on the wall had subtly changed.

He hung back as Cub stepped out of the lift and then followed him once again as the boy began to move confidently down the hall. Wolf knew that he and Eagle were both walking in the same manner, back straight and steps timed. It was the perfunctory stride pattern for any soldier and one that the two SAS men had almost unconsciously settled in to the moment that they walked into the building. They shouldn't have looked out of place walking in this manner, in this building. But they did.

It was because of Cub. In the same way that he had been sprawled comfortably in the chair in Blunt's office, as he walked he was once again giving out that same aura of self confidence and dismissal of the authority that owned and operated within the building. Next to him, strolling casually with a rather bored expression, Wolf and Eagle looked distinctly uncomfortable and almost tentative. From an outside perspective they might look like they were out of their depth. That perspective would be right.

Cub led them a little more than a third of the way up the hallway and then stopped at a varnished wooden door, identical to those around it except for the numbers that winked from the polished golden plate fixed upon it. For a moment it looked like Cub was going to just reach for the handle and walk straight in but then, for the first time since MI6 had appeared on the scene, he hesitated, before lifting a fist and striking decisively twice on the door.

"Enter," a deep voice boomed from inside the room and Cub twisted the handle on the door and stepped inside the room. Wolf and Eagle entered after him and let the door fall shut behind them.

The man who was sat at the (probably reinforced) chair behind the art deco glass-topped desk was so exceedingly fat that the first bit of him that Wolf could notice was the part of his expansive gut that was sitting like an overindulged, shirted cat upon his desk. Slightly taken aback by the sheer size of the man, Wolf raised his gaze to the rounded, moustached face that was currently crumpled into a beam and which sat above the extensive bulk of the rest of the man. Although when Wolf thought that the face was above the rest of the man's body this wasn't strictly true as, due to the voluminous amount of chins in the mans possession, he was of no neck which meant that there wasn't actually any real gap between his shoulders and head.

More surprising than his more than ample size however was the fact that he was greeting Cub with genuine affection. "Alex, my dear boy! How the devil are you?" The man – Smithers, Wolf presumed – announced jovially as the young agent stepped forward. "You look…how can I word this sensitively…ah, well you look like shit if you don't mind my saying" Smithers continued without letting Cub answer his previous enquiry. Cub's face broke out into a grin and Wolf nearly had a heart attack. That was the first look of real happiness that had graced the boys face since he had arrived at Wolf's flat the night before. In fact if he was honest that was the first look of real happiness that the man had ever seen on his youngest unit member's face.

"And who are these two strapping young fellows?" The large man asked indicating the two SAS men and Wolf didn't miss the suggestive eyebrow that he raised at Cub whose face flushed a dull red. "I don't know what you could possibly be insinuating" the young spy finally replied smoothly as he regained his composure. "But may I introduce you to two old… acquaintances of mine."

"Mr. Cassidy, but I go by Wolf," Wolf introduced himself, cutting through the teasings of the two MI6 operatives. "You must be Smithers." The rotund man nodded an affirmative. "And this is my colleague, Mr. Martin, who goes by Eagle." Eagle inclined his head stiffly at the introduction.

"SAS then I assume," Smithers deducted, looking at Cub for confirmation. Once he'd received it he continued "I'd have thought that this mission was well within your capabilities without any need for excess support, but then I suppose that it's nice to see MI6 providing you with adequate cover for once."

Cub didn't respond to this, his eyes fell instead onto the glass desk which as well as holding a portion of the enigmatic man's gut also provided a resting place for several items which Cub seemed to find of interest.

Following the spy's gaze Smithers grin widened perceptively. "Of course yes, enough pleasantries. Lets get to business shall we?"

"I suppose Blunt has already talked this through with you so I don't need to tell you that your target is well protected. The approach to the house is going to be bad enough, the circumference is monitored vigorously and the perimeter walls are never shorter than ten foot, topped with glass and razor wire. Then there's the matter of the thirty-man security force. We're talking a sophisticated rotation of armed guards and Butler only accepts the best into his employment, ex-military and the like. As well as that you're going to need to break through some state of the art alarm systems, CCTV networks and knowing Butler some nasty surprise booby traps. Then there's the case of accessing and then opening the safe."

"A piece of cake then," Cub said with a slight surliness to his tone.

"Due to the nature of this mission the gadgets that I have been told to provide are unlike those that I have previously supplied you with. You can probably yourself tell that the majority of these have not been disguised. That is because for this mission there is no need to go undercover and thus conceal your assets. The point of these gadgets are to help you avoid detection and if they succeed in their job then obviously they will not need to be disguised because no one will see you. Those that have been camouflaged however are just a few things that I have been experimenting with just in case you ever needed any of my particular talents again. I do love designing gadgets for you Alex! It's so much more fun than making them for the other stuffed suits around here! Anyway I'd like to think that they would be quite useful for you, particularly if you did find yourself in a tricky spot."

"When have I ever been in a tricky spot?" Cub said innocently.

"I don't want to go there. But you still owe me a bike," Smithers responded with a soft expression that betrayed his reprimanding glare.

"Can't we write it off as collateral damage?"

"I'll consider it if you bring everything back in one piece this time."

"That's a no then."

Smithers sighed.


End file.
